


Light Comes Through the Darkness

by RougueShadowWolf



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Abuse, Cerebral Palsy, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:55:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3998053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was not the sort of person anyone one would have imagined Jax Teller to fall for, she wasn’t what they’d imagined he’d risk his life for or to whom he’d whisper “I love you” so softly and lovingly or for whom he’d scream “I love her” at the top of his lunges with an air of pride. Her body was broken, her life had been bleak and full of pain, and yet he loved her more than he’d thought himself capable of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Traitors Call

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never done a prompt before to anyone, always thought I would never be asked to do one until lovely India came knocking at my door and asked for one. And because I am trying to be brave (which some have said is a mistake) I dare to venture into these unknown waters of Sons of Anarchy. I’ve never before done anything or even taken the time to read Sons of Anarchy fic’s, so this is a new thing so be gentle and be kind or I might just start crying and it would be the sort of ugly crying. 
> 
> Now India asked for something where Jax falls in love with a girl who’s got cerebral palsy and is in a wheelchair, and eventually she’s going to get pregnant with his baby while also having to deal with cancer and her abusive mother and step-father. India also asked for Gemma to like this girl who has never had a boyfriend and who’s dealt with being abused by her mother and step-father. There were a lot of more requests there but I can’t recall of them at the moment. I can only hope she’ll like this little attempt of mine to be brave when I am known as a very cautious little wolf.

 

A phone call in the middle of the night or in the early hours of the morning could never be a good sign. The sound of the phone down the hall, the old one the no one really used anymore rang with an almost tiered sort of a way jolting Gemma right up and out of bed while Clay simply grumbled something about damn bikes without truly waking-up. The continuing sound of the phone ringing like a horrid bell of doom had Gemma rushing out of the bedroom, hoping against all reasonable hope that Jax wasn’t dead or dying.

 

With shaky hands, without pausing to make sure her voice was steady and unwavering Gemma answered the phone, her heart was beating like it was attempting to shorten her life by at least ten years or so.

 

`Gem? ´ said a familiar husky voice, there was a cautiousness there that was however unfamiliar to Gemma. Hearing that voice from long ago caused her to look in the direction of the bedroom where her husband was still sleeping, snoring loudly and peacefully.

 

`Gemma? Are you there? ´

 

Gemma knew she could always just hang-up and hope Cat wouldn’t call back, but knowing Catherin she would call over and over again until Gemma gave in to whatever Cat was after.

 

`Gem? ´

 

`I’m here Cat.´ she answered voice as low as possible, she had no desire to wake Clay at this point because he’d probably be even less thrilled than she was about the unexpected call from a ghost.

 

`Shit. What the fuck are you doing? ´ It had been years since Gemma had heard from Cat. Having a snitch of a husband had made it impossible for Cat to stay in Charming, especially when there were unconfirmed rumors about Cat being as much of a rat as her husband had been.  

 

`I need your help Gem.´ those words caused Gemma to laugh and it wasn’t a joyful sound at all, if anything it was an ugly hollow sound edging on the borderline of bitter madness.There was of course some insanity to the situation that warranted such a sound because someone like Cat couldn’t ask for help from someone like Gemma Teller-Morrow or anyone who was in anyway involved with the club.

 

`Gem. Please.´

 

She should hang-up, Gemma knew she should. She didn’t owe Cat anything. And yet she did nothing but stand there.

 

`Don’t beg. It doesn’t suite you Cat.´ Gem looked around, hoping she could find just one goddamn cigarette. Hell, she wanted a stiff drink that’s what she really wanted.  

 

`I have a niece, ´ Cat says like that information maters much to Gemma who responds with a tiered sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

 

`So?´ Gemma said while leaning against the wall, the solid flat surface felt like her very own silent supporter there to keep her from losing ground or her honor. `What’s that got to do with me Cat? ´

 

There was a short moment of silence, that didn’t last long enough for Gemma to finally do the right thing and end the call without a word of goodbye. Ending the call without a goodbye would have been fitting considering they had never said goodbye to one another.

 

`They’re hurting her Gemma.´ Cat continued and there was such anguish in that voice that had never held such a thing in the almost gilded past they had shared,not even when Cat’s son drowned at the public pool had sharp faced Barbie allowed her façade break, `She’s not safe with her own mother and that asshole of a stepfather.´

 

`Not my fucking problem Cat.´ she hissed growing more and more frustrated with the conversation.

 

`Just rat them out. Sellout your family, it shouldn’t be too hard for you.´Gemma was beginning to seriously question why she was still talking to Cat, why she hadn’t just ended the call and crawled back into bed.

 

`And risk her ending up with people I can’t trust to take care of her? ´ Cat hissed back before a cascade of startling coughs took over the line. The force of those rattling coughs made Gemma winch for although she wished to remain unaffected by Cat’s plight there was still something unnerving about the way Cat coughed, it was as if she was trying to expel her own lunges. Gemma remained on the line, listening to the disturbing sound even though she could have hung-up on Cat, but Gemma knew Cat would continue calling her until Gemma surrendered enough to at least answer the damn phone.

 

`Oh God,´ Cat croaked unhappily before the distinctive sound of liquid being consumed through a straw reached through the line, irritating the unfortunate fool standing in a dark narrow hall hours before dawn.

 

`Cat, I think we’re done.´ Gemma began to say but she was cut off by the woman who had helped her snare her late husband.

 

`Gemma, please just… she’s not…´ Cat started before sighing like her life had suddenly become that much more difficult to handle, `Stella’s not your average Jane, Gemma.´

 

Cat’s poor reply had Gemma pinching the bridge of her nose for the second time during their unhappy conversation, this time however she placed a lot more pressure into the touch, her fingernails digging deep and hard.

 

`Fuck Gemma I’m desperate.´ Cat snapped and Gemma nearly snapped back, reminding the traitorous cow what she’d done, but instead she just clawed at the wall because if she lost her temper now then everyone in Charming would hear Gemma Teller-Morrow lose her shit, fuck even people in freaking Alaska would hear her curse Cat to hell.

 

`I’m fucking begging you. ´ there’s a desperation there that caused the somewhat hardened woman to wonder how bad the situation really could be to reduce someone like Cat to beg without even trying to keep some of her aloofness. Cat had always been proud woman who’d even when she packed her shitty little belongings in her car, there hadn’t been a whiff of defeat or shame around her; if anything she’d stood taller and held her head high like she was some bloody queen.

 

`It’s. Not. My. Problem.´ Gemma gritted out fighting refusing to raise her hands in surrender to the sympathy and worry rising within her, Cat might have been like a sister to her once upon a time but it meant nothing now, `She’s your problem. Deal with your own shit and I’ll deal with mine.´ Gemma is just about to finish of the call but the information yelled through the fragile connection pauses her immediately.

 

`I’m fucking dying Gem! ´

 

She stands in the dark hallway the air surrounding her is suddenly cold enough to cause her to shiver.

 

`I’m fucking dying!´ Cat yells once more before a cruel fit of merciless coughs stifle any attempts at speech.

 

There was suddenly an unpleasant tightness in her chest resembled the same one she had on the day she lost her little boy, it was all very surprising considering how she’d hoped for Cats death more than once since the day the bitch betrayed her family. Sliding down the wall and onto the floor like some overly dramatic teen princess, Gemma runs her now shaking had down and over her face time and time again while trying to get a grip of herself; she should be happy about the news, shouldn’t she, but then why the hell does she feel so sad?

 

With the stopping of coughs Gemma lifts the receiver off of her chest and to her ear, and with a slightly shaky voice she whispers, `What? ´

 

`I’m dying Gem.´ Cat gulped voice raw, `A few weeks, maybe a month tops. Regardless, judgment day is coming.´there’s nothing but acceptance in Cat’s voice and Gemma feels it like a knife that was being  twisted in her own slightly worn down body.

 

`Too many fucking smokes,´ Cat laughs bitterly, `too much alcohol.´ Cat continued sighing deeply, `and not nearly enough visits to the fucking doctor Gem.´ 

 

`Shit. Cat.´ Gemma said pulling her legs up and resting her right arm over her knees, there had been a time when she and Cat would sit like this, shoulders touching and sharing a bottle of whatever liquor they decided to consume while talking about their lives and dreams both of them knew would never become true.Gemma could now clearly hear how labored Cat’s breathing had become like all the mistakes they had made were now pressing against her chest.

 

`I know.´ Cat sighed at the other end of the line, there’s a silence between them for a few minutes or maybe more, the familiar beeping of a heart monitor could be heard in the distance it was almost like a foghorn breaking through ghostly stillness.

 

`Gem? ´

 

`I’m here.´ Gemma sighed running her fingers through her hair. Her hair appointment was in about eight hours but she was beginning to regret not making and appointment for a manicure.

 

`Her name is Stella Greyson, ´ Cat sounds cautious as she speaks, perhaps aware of how easily those words could push Gemma to slam the phone down and return to bed, `she’s going to be sixteen in a couple days.´ Gemmajust nods, not sure of what else to do, she’s still trying to get her head around the fact that the woman she’d wished dead was in fact dying.

 

`Stella called me last week.´ Cat tells her a quiver in her voice, that once so proud Catherin Donovan was close to crying, `I could barely make out what she was saying, but she was crying, and telling me they were in Charming.´

 

`Cat. ´ Gemma breathes out, she’s tired in more ways than once.

 

`She was so- fuck Gem she was freaking terrified – said he’d kill her if he found out she was calling me.´ Cat continued to say before she stopped talking and simply gave into her miserable crying, jerking hard at what remained of Gemma’s slightly charred heartstrings causing her to sigh out the following words, `Do you know where in Charming they are? ´

 

**~*~**

 

Gemma knew she had no real obligation to keep a single promise made to Cat even if the woman was dying and it had been her last wish.She thought about leaving the girl be, it would have served Cat right but in the end Gemma found it impossible to just leave it be because no matter what she did her thoughts drifted back to the call and the tears her once so dear friend had allowed to escape without shame or thought.

 

So with only three names, and the possibility that the girl called Stella might be in Charming which Cat wasn’t sure remained accurate at the time of the call for apparently the family moved around a lot never staying in one place long enough to draw attention to them and their dealings, but regardless of how little Gemma had to go by she was able to learn if there indeed was a Stella Aurora Greyson attending the local high school; sure, she’d been forced pull a lot strings, and use up several favors owed to her before she gained the information she’d sought for.   

 

She’d found the girl and learned what Cat had perhaps intentionally left out, the girl was brain damaged, bound to a wheelchair no less, sure there were fancy names for what the kid suffered from but the truth of the matter was the girl was damaged.The knowledge unnerved her, Gemma could have been prepared to take on a normal healthy kid but not one with disabilities and so Gemma decided to leave the girl be, after all she didn’t owe Cat anything; and the girl wasn’t family.  

 

But in the end after nearly two weeks of knowing where the girl went to school and where she lived, after two weeks of occasionally thinking about just going up to the shabby looking house in the bad part of town and ask to see the kid, another call from Catherine Donovan broke the restless sleep of Gemma Teller-Morrow. The sound was loud and obnoxious, screaming for everyone in the house to wake and take notice, it startled her awake and had her heart racing fast enough for it to cause her physical pain. She stumbled out of bed, her legs tangled in the blanket that she’d for the most part lost to Clay who for once started to stir awake grumbling a curse as he was forced awake.

 

`Cat.´ she cursed as she rushed out of the bedroom, her big toe hitting something hard and unpleasant along the way increasing the amount of pain in her body, but she couldn’t stop because she had to reach the phone before Clay did. The old phone continued to call for her stubbornly and she knew even before she picked up the offending item that she’d get an earful of Cat.

 

`You! I fucking trusted you! ´ Cat screamed but there was very little force behind the yelling or the words, the strength that once was had departed causing the woman on the other end to sound less like a woman in her early fifties and more so like an elderly woman in her mid-eighties, `Stella just called me, crying.´Gemma could feel herself shrinking in on herself a little.

 

Gemma could hear Clay curse and groan down the hall, getting out of bed and moving towards the door that would take him to where she was standing and listening to a traitor.

 

`She took a big fucking risk calling me the first time, ´with every word spoken it seemed Cat’s anger was being drained out of her, and with every other word Cat seemed to gasp for air just a little bit harder and Gemma had to wonder if the woman had it in her to continue breathing for another week; she had to wonder if Cat could find the energy to survive two more days.

 

`They caught her this time Gemma, I heard him scream at her, ´ Cat continued frantically, ` I heard him beat her right there and then Gemma! ´

 

`Cat.´

 

`He was hitting her over and over again, ´ Cat’s angry yelling had been swapped completely now with sobbing, and it was making Gemma’s resolve shatter, `Gemma, she was begging him to stop.´

 

`Cat.´ Gemma tried again but Cat just continued to cry out the words, `She was begging Gemma, and he kept on hitting her.´

 

`Cat?´ Clay’s still groggy voice came from down the hall and Gemma nearly leaped out of her skin, but soon enough the grogginess vanished and it was replaced with anger, `Cat? Like _the_ Cat?´ If she didn’t know better than Gemma would have been worried about her safety, but the anger wasn’t directed at her but the woman on the other end of the bad line.

 

`He was fucking beating her right there so I could hear it.´ Cat sobbed, `and I couldn’t fucking do anything to help her.´

 

Gemma may have grown hard in the head and heart with the passing of time, but she had yet to become heartless and so while she listened to the woman who had with her husband nearly ruined the club and Gemma’s own family her heart may begin to feel for both Cat and her niece.And so while she listened to the crying woman tell her how the girl, a girl Gemma had been pretending didn’t exist, had been beaten even though the girl had begged for mercy and that thought that someone was so morally corrupt that they could beat some brain damaged kid while the child cried for mercy it simply didn’t  sit well with Gemma; sure, she knew that this might just be one of Cat’s attempts at manipulating her because both of them had played that game hundreds of times, but she was willing to risk looking a fool instead of living with the possible guilt that would perhaps come if the girl Stella Greyson was found beaten to death in a ditch somewhere. 

 

`Is that _her_? ´ Clay asked voice sparked with the anger he’d kept buried deep-deep down.

 

`Clay.´ Gemma said wordlessly asking him to just wait a little, to trust her, and because the man knew her better than she wished he did he stopped in his tracks however he continued to glare and huffing angrily where he stood arms crossed.

 

`Cat.´ Gemma said voice a bit tight much like her nerves were at the moment, her eyes were on Clay who really didn’t look at all pleased with her, `I know where they are staying.´ Gemma could only hope this wouldn’t be the one crack that shattered their relationship.

 

 `And I’m going to check on her, okay.´ Gemma promised while listening to Cat’s sobs die down just a little bit, `I’m going to go right now.´

 

`Really? ´ Cat hiccupped sounding just a little bit hopeful and at the same time exhausted.

 

`Yes.´ Clay’s glare hardened at her response and Gemma wasn’t sure if she would be able to leave the house without an argument, she really could do without an argument at a time like this.

 

`Thank you. Thank you.´ Cat continued crying and her breathing seemed to even out just a little, although her words were becoming more than a little bit slurred the more she spoke, `I really am thankful Gem.´ There was something about hearing Cat thank her, hearing her sound so bloody graceful made Gemma feel uncomfortable, and she preferred to ignore the words or at least pretend they hadn’t been spoken.

 

`I’ll have her call you, okay.´ Gemma said, while brushing of that unwanted discomfort she was beginning to feel. She watched the man she’d chosen to spend the remaining years of her life or at least she’d hoped to do so, she watched him warily as he began to pace like a caged tiger while glaring at her and the phone.

 

`What’s happening here?´ Clay asked as soon as the call ended, eyes hard and unforgiving and if Gemma hadn’t been forged into the hardened woman she was then she might have have shrunk back from the blazing rage he expressed with his stance and gaze. But Gemma was now weak maiden fearful of men, she was made from steel and a sharp mind, she was cursed or blessed with too much pride to shrink before any man. And of course she knew Clay well enough to know this was not the day he would lay his hands on her in anger.It would take much more than this little act of betrayal to have him break his oath to her.

 

`Why the hell are you talking to that bitch for? What fucking reason can you have Gemma?!´ He boomed at her, his face only inches away from hers it was nearly enough to cause her to flinch, `That whore nearly got us all locked-up.´

 

`I know alright.´ she snapped feeling her own sense of frustration rising because she did know how insane the situation was at the moment.  Gemma hadn’t forgotten the troubles that had come with the betrayal of Cat and her husband, one didn’t forget going through the humiliation of strangers with badges going through every inch of one’s home or the destruction they left behind, or the hours spent being grilled by men who supposedly were the keepers of law and order but those lawful men had threatened Gemma and her family and so Gemma despised them all. `I know.´

 

Gemma moved carefully to touch the man who’d promised to love her regardless of what she did or said, she began to stroke the very arms that usually made her feel safe, `I need you to trust me. You do trust me, right? ´

 

`Not as far as I can throw your skinny ass I don’t. ´ the answer was only half-truths spoken in anger and so she let it pass.

 

`I need you to just get dressed, get in the car, and drive me across town,´ her voice was smooth and low, not seductive or demanding, it was neither pleading or hopeful; it was in simple terms Gemma expecting Clay to do as she asked.

 

`Gemma.´ Clay growled but he did as he was told, they got dressed in silence a terrible tension growing between them.

 

`Grab the gun babe.´ she said as she slipped out of the bedroom, not prepared to explain why they needed at least one gun for this little trip, but regardless if she was in the room Clay shouted out one simple word, `WHAT?´

 

 


	2. Behind the door

 

 

Clay had always known that Gemma was trouble he’d known from the get-go that she was a dangerous thing to desire and want, Clay had known from the first sight of the young woman that had drawn in him with her beauty that made him think of a tigress,he’d known from day one that she’d probably be the death of him in one way or another; during the years when Gemma wasn’t his to hold or admire but someone else’s Clay had indeed been walking around with a target on his back.Gemma might be the death of him but he would never allow her to walk into a dangerous situation without him there to keep her as safe.

 

Clay was growing more and more convinced that he should have his head checked, that he should sit his ass down and just talk to some overpaid dick about all the shit that was driving him up the walls, because no sane person would drive towards a known crack/whore house in the middle of the night for the sake of some relative to a traitorous whore; sure, it was a kid they were going to check-up on but still Clay felt like he was either losing his mind or going soft, and neither one would keep him at the head of the table.

 

Gemma had explained things to him during the drive, told him everything about the bitch Cat being sick and the suspicions that her niece was in a bad situation, none of the reasons were good enough to sway his opinion that they should leave everything as they were, but of course his better half did not share his opinion. Of course they argued for about ten minutes before an angry silence fell between them for the rest of the drive, and although the tension within the car grew as their destination drew nearer.

 

The street on which the building with the questionable reputation was almost in as bad shape as the houses lining the street were, although here and there were properties which held remnants of houses that had either collapsed in on themselves or been burned to the ground.Clay could still remember a time when this part of Charming was considered to be a desirable place to raise a family, but when the economy of Charming like crashed and the once hardworking men and women who had Sunday barbeques in the backyard found themselves without a job things changed, especially in this part of town; houses were foreclosed and sold for peanuts to plenty of shrewd individuals who put those once beautiful homes for rent in hopes of quick and easy profits, renting to people who wouldn’t or couldn’t afford to make complaints about leaking faucets or cracked windows or even leaking roofs. Hell, even Clay had owned a few houses along this street and rented them out to illegal immigrants, two had burned down under suspicious circumstances and one was still standing in hopes that someone would burn it down; insurance had made the buildings worth more they weren’t standing.  

 

Clay would have driven past the miserable looking house if it hadn’t been for the flashing lights sneaking through make-shift curtains, the house looked like it was close to caving in on itself and the front yard hadn’t seen a lawnmower in ages and there were four low-grade cars and a couple of mountain bikes.

 

 _That’s not a house, that’s a fucking dump,_ Clay thought as parked his own car across the street of the house that looked like it was one storm away from collapsing.

 

Slipping out of the car Clay was growing a little less comfortable with the idea of having Gemma with him, there was every possibility that things could go horribly and terribly wrong, and he almost told her to stay in the car but he knew better than to do such a thing; Gemma was not the type of woman who stayed hiding in a car, and so instead he told her to grab the handgun from the glove compartment which she did. Walking rather casually across the street, Clay did however feel the need to guide her somewhat.

 

`Stay behind me. If things become hairy you get the fuck out and drive to the club, and beyond that point it’s up to you what happens.´ Clay could almost feel the eye-roll and the glare that followed his wordless request.

 

The noises coming from within the tired looking building became clearer the closer they came to sad remains of a reasonably fine house, the distinctively different sounds that escaped into the relatively cool night. A TV was blaring loudly and it was accompanied by something Clay wouldn’t call music even if you put a gun to his head and threatened to blow his brains out. The not-so-musical display of some talentless loser made Clay’s already sour mood increase in its sharpness.

 

Clay didn’t even bother knocking on the feeble excuse of a door, a door that had been carelessly left ajar making it easy for anyone to just walk in and out of the miserable building, there was no real point even in knocking because there was no reason to believe that anyone inside the dump would even hear him banging on the door.With a light tap with his foot the door opened up wide enough for Clay to slip into the filthy house.

 

The stench hit him first and it struck him hard churning his gut unpleasantly, the stench was enough to make Gemma gag a few times behind him and he wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up being sick all over his boots. The house smelled of unemptied trashcans, piss and vomit, the air was thick with smoke that wasn’t from your average cigarette. The floor was filthy and sticky beneath his feet as he moved forward, looking around with eyes that were beginning to itch.

 

The house was filthy and in his opinion uninhabitable, there were used needles on the floor as well as on the slightly singed coffee table that held various little bags some half-empty and others already used-up, bent spoons and lit candles sat on the table amongst bottles of cheap liquor. There were two couches placed by the stained and burned table, on one of the couches facing the TV were two men both looking pretty much like they’d crawled out from a dumpster; one of them had passed-out or was dead while the other had somehow managed to convince a skeletal female figure to suck him off, on the second couch was a young male who looked like he was one of those skater-kids that drove Clay up the wall whenever Gemma dragged him to the mall the boy was occupied with staring at what looked like Asian porn mouth open while palming his pathetic little dick.

 

`Jesus fuck,´ Clay mumbled as he turned his head and looked in the direction of what might have once been a dining room but which was now a room of filthy matrasses and passed-out bodies one of which was being fucked by another filthy looking degenerate.  

 

`If she’s here,´ Clay said just loud enough for Gemma to hear, but not loud enough to disturb any of the shady characters he’d laid his eyes upon thus far, `We’re taking her with us.´ Clay may hate Cat, he might even wish her dead, he may desire to put a fucking bullet through her damn head if he ever caught sight of her ever again, but that didn’t mean Clay would ever leave some sixteen year old girl in the nasty little hell-hole he was walking through at the moment.

 

`Of course she’s here.´ Gemma hissed before stumbling over just another empty bottle, grasping at his shoulder as she tried to find her balance once more, `she’s here. She has to be.´

 

Clay honestly hoped that the girl, Stella, wasn’t there. He wished that she didn’t live amongst all the filth he saw, that she didn’t have to deal with people fucking around the house like filthy beasts.

 

Not a single kid in the world deserved to grow-up or live even a week in such a nasty place, surrounded by dirty lost people.

 

Moving slowly and quietly through the various rooms of the first floor in search of the girl they’d come to rescue from the uninhabitable conditions it began to slowly dawn on both Clay and Gemma that the kid had to be somewhere on the second-floor of the filthy house.

 

Pausing at the foot of the stairs Clay turned to look at Gemma who’d informed him during the drive that the girl they were searching was bound to a wheelchair, a wheelchair that hadn’t been seen anywhere.

 

`Stay here.´ he said fully expecting Gemma to ignore his order but instead of following him up the moldy steps she stayed put at the foot of the stairs giving him a short nod, there was something about her eyes that made him think she was afraid of what would be found on the second floor of the building that should be torn down;Gemma was a hard woman, Clay knew as much, and still there was a sense of concern blooming within the woman one which she could not hide behind a hard face or a scowl.

 

He ascends the stairs that creaked worrisomely beneath his body, he feared with every step he took that his weight would just be too much for the old stairs, and Clay finds himself unable to even begin to imagine the struggle the girl had getting up and down the stairs on a daily basis.

 

The state of the house was no better upstairs and Clay found himself hoping that there wouldn’t be some child living in the rat-infested house at all, that this had just been one of Cat’s twisted games. Carefully he slips into one of the occupied rooms; on the double bed was a man and a woman, both looked like they’d passed-out in the middle of a sexual act the naked man on the bed looked familiar to him but he couldn’t figure out why while the woman looked nothing more like a crack-whore who’d lost too much weight and who wore too much wake-up. Clay checks the room quickly and silently, there’s no kid hiding in the room where the closet door was missing and the window was cracked and a breeze slipped into the room through the cracks playing with the thin curtain. The second bedroom was in a slightly less shattered state than the others he’d passed through, but it was still a disgusting place to be in, there was an unmade bed by the windows and there were one too many candles placed about the room but it wasn’t really the state of the room that drew his attention; it was the narrow door with the a heavy looking armchair that might have seen better days prompt up against it.

 

`Now what do we have here?´ Clay mumbled as he began to move the old leather chair aside, noticing the key resting on the small table by the closet door he realized that not only had the chair been used to block the door but it was also locked.

 

`Now why would anyone lock a closet door?´ he wondered what he would behind the door, of course he also feared what might lay behind the door that looked fairly new as did the lock. Opening the door cautiously Clay wished whatever he found behind the door would not become just another thing to relive in the dark hours of the night when he slept in his bed.

 

What was found behind the door was something that would stay in his memories.

 

Behind the door of a narrow walk-in closet was a girl with pale-brown skin that was riddled with disgusting bruises and cuts like someone had beat the ever-living-life out the kid, like someone had tried to break through her skin with both fists and belts.

 

Taking in the sad state of a girl who was curled-up on a filthy looking matrass that was torn in several places with springs poking out here and there she lay there without a pillow to lay her head on or a blanket to cover up her almost skeletally thin body; it seemed they had arrived just in time.

 

The girl, Stella, looked up at him from behind her arm and arm she was using to shield her already battered face. He could see fear in her wide eyes and for the first time ever Clay found himself wishing he’d been born with a slightly less intimidating appearance; he was well aware that even now as the stretch of time was starting to reveal itself upon his person that there was still something about him that look like formidable opponent, it made him look like someone who wouldn’t think twice about grabbing some sixteen-year-girl by the ankle and drag her to her doom. His appearance had served him well in the past it had deter idiots from attacking, it had granted him the seat at the head of the table, however now it was a hindrance; now the face his mother had often referred to as one only a mother could love and the large hands that had beaten several beautiful and handsome faces into oblivion, his appearance was a disadvantage and he wished he’d been born different.

 

Clay knew he wasn’t a comforting sight to the girl, especially not when he was there wearing a pair of heavy boots and carrying a gun without a badge. He was not the sort of man a kid would expect to come to their rescue and he knew that, he knew that to the core, and yet there he was trying to do just that;  he was there to save her whether she trusted him to do it or not.

 

Clay wanted to callout for Gemma and have her deal with the girl who’d been locked inside the closet, because although his wife could be a hard nut to crack and cold as well as vindictive she would’ve probably been the preferred rescuer to the child on the floor. However if he called out for Gemma then someone who might not be as wanted as she was might appear in the room, and so he was left to try and convince the frightened child to trust him if only for a moment.   

 

Keeping his movements slow and as none-threatening, hands up and before him with the palms facing the child, Clay began to slowly approach the girl whom he hoped was the right kid because having to deal with two abusedkids in one night might be a little bit too much for him at the moment.

 

`Stella?´ he keeps his as low and soft as possible, and still regardless she seemed to continue to view him as just another person who would cause her harm.

 

`Are you Stella? Stella Greyson? ´ Clay asked as he slowly began to kneel down on the floor, his knees bent stiffly and a sharp pain shooting through his aching joints. She answered his question with a slow nod.  

 

`Well Stella,´ his knees were complaining as he moved just a little bit closer to the girl, it had been years since he’d crawled around on his hands and knees for a girl, `I’m Clay and I’m not going to hurt you sweetheart.´The girl seemed to try and pull further away from him but she barely moved and inch, she wasn’t wearing much and the movement rucked up the old and worn thin t-shirt enough to reveal her cheap-looking white panties and the scrapes and bruises which ran up the whole length of her thigh. If he ever got his hands on the bastard that had abused the kid he would probably beat the life right out of his sorry ass.

 

`I’m here to help you, ´ his words didn’t seem to awaken much trust in the girl who tried to pull the frayed hem of the shirt down to cover her up a little bit more, it was only then that he noticed the way her hands weren’t quite right and once he noticed that he noticed everything else; and what it made him think of was his little sister Ava, his patents had locked her away in a home where she’d died before her eighteenth birthday.

 

 _CP. Cerebral Palsy, that’s what it’s called,_ Clay thought recalling everything he’d read on the condition his sister had suffered from, of course he was sure some information from way back then had changed or been corrected but still he recalled them.

 

Unlike his sister this girl seemed more alert and aware, so it would suggest she wasn’t in as a bad state as Ava had been in.

 

 `Your aunt Cat sent me.´

 

The kid peered up at him from the useless cover of her arm. She looked at him cautiously before finally speaking.

 

`R-really? ´ She seemed a little bit hopeful, but still very much suspicious.

 

`Yeah.´ Clay answered fighting the groan that wanted to escape as his knees were starting to really hurt, the pain radiating up to his lower-back,`so, come on sweetheart let’s get going so you can call your aunt and tell her you’re safe.´ It seemed that his words did not have the desired effect as he’d hoped, because suddenly the girl shrunk back as if trying to vanish inside herself.

 

`I promise you, you are going to be fine.´ Clay is perfectly aware that making promises that could easily be broken wasn’t a wise thing to do when dealing with an abused child, but he was just so desperate to get the girl out of the unsafe environment was laid to waste.  

 

`Just come with me.´ he reaches out for her, doing his best to be as none-threatening as possible which is difficult considering she’s almost half his size and that really can’t be screaming, “I’m as soft and gentle as a teddy bear sweetheart”, to her he was probably more like an enraged and not so green Hulk.

 

`I can’t.´ she said sounding rather like a child having to confess a wrong doing of sorts, and there are tears streaming down her sad eyes and he really has to remind himself not to just pull her to him, he has to restrain his own instincts and remember that this girl probably was used to people deciding what happened to her rather than giving her a choice; he was going to give her a choice, he was going to let her choose to be held or supported regardless of how stomach twisting it was to do nothing.

 

 `I can’t, ´ she repeats just as Clay is about to tell her how she can do it, that she can do anything she wants.

 

` H-he broke, he broke m-my wheelchair and my arm h-hurts so bad.´ her words come out with a sob and her entire body looked uncomfortably rigid as she cried into the crook of her elbow.

 

`Oh.´ Is all Clay is able to say, swaying a little where he is kneeling, one hand hovering near the sixteen year old abuse victim who is sobbing almost violently against her battered flesh.He wants to touch her, comfort her, run his fingers through the short-short hair that isn’t really black in color but more a brownish-black color and he wonders why he’s thinking about the details of her hair while he should focus on the fact that some little sadistic shit had removed this injured child’s only means of free movement.

 

It takes a minute for the words Stella, and Clay knows he has to start using her name instead of thinking of her as just _kid_ or _girl_ or _child_ because there was now a name to the person he’d found locked inside a closet, it takes a minute and a few seconds before the information Stella had cried out to him to settle inside his rattled mind.

 

It’s damn near impossible for Clay not to give in to the outrage he feels when understands the message behind the string of words. Not only had someone one abused a person most likely incapable of defending themselves but also extracted any of their hope of freedom, and Clay was painfully aware of the devastation that came with loss of movability for someone who had very little say in what was done to them; Clay only had to think back to his own little sister Ava and the day he learned someone had either stolen or misplaced her wheelchair during the night, the orderlies of the care-facility had to carry her and the shame and sadness she felt had been so clear.

 

`Honey, it’s okay.´ Clay says voice as soft as possible, but she continues to cry and he knows what he is about to do will most likely humiliate her but they need to leave while the coast was clear.

 

`I’m sorry sweetheart,´ is all he says before he scoops the girl up, she gives a startled little sound but doesn’t fight him the slightest instead she lifts her arms up and wraps them around his neck just enough to keep her secure in his hold.

 

`What the hell. What the fuck are you doing?´ an angry male voice barks the moment they’re out of the closet and the smelly bedroom, the hall is no longer as dark as it was a moment ago as someone had turned on the lights. Stella whimpers and tightens her hold of him, her body begins to tremble. Clay doesn’t need to hear her say the words, “he’s the one, he’s the one that locked me inside the closet, he’s the one who hurt me” to know exactly what sort of a man is standing before him or rather what sort of a low-life coward was standing in front of him.

 

Clay tightens his hold of the girl in his arms and straightens his back as much as he cans without winching in pain, aging was not a thing the man could say he appreciated the slightest as all it brought were pains and aches he could do without, he puts on the mask of intimidation and glares at the asshole standing before him.

 


	3. Break the Door Down

 

The house, if you really could call it that, was never silent. Not even at night was the dirty heap of wasted plywood and nails quiet, and Stella often wondered how anyone inside the decrepit house could sleep with the music and TV battling for supremacy not to mention all the fights that went on when paranoia settled into clouded minds abused by drugs and alcohol.She herself couldn’t sleep, not simply due to the noises that vibrated through the house like a little earthquake of course the noise was partly to be blamed for the restlessness she felt but the true reason why Stella couldn’t sleep was fear; she was afraid what might happen if she did somehow fall into a deep enough slumber that would keep her from waking up in time to cover her head from unexpected blows or crawl away from possible flames that might spring forth by the drop of a cigarette or a candle left to burn through the night, orto claw and scratch at the face of a drunken or stoned fool that thought they could try their luck with her, and not to mention she had to be awake and aware of her own needs unless she wanted Stan to drag her by her hair into the living room and show everyone how she’d pissed herself during the night.

 

The last time Stella had wet herself after being locked inside the room she’d shared at the time with both her mother and Stan, her step-father had dragged her out of the room and into the front room of their smelly apartment where they’d lived in before moving to Charming, there had been people there none eager or willing to help her as Stan stripped her from her clothes if anything there had been a lot of pointing and laughing from the guests, she still had nightmares of that morning. And Stan had also forced her to go to school wearing her soiled underwear; because of the horrible smell the kids at school had been unusually cruel, even one of her teachers had suggested she should wear diapers to avoid future accidents. 

 

Stella wasn’t about to do anything to lose the matrass Stan had _so_ graciously given her, sure it had stains and a horrid smell to it but at least her bones had something soft to lay on, but if she messed her bed there was no doubt she would be sleeping on the hard floor again with only a blanker and a pillow to keep her attached to the faint memory of having a real bed and it truly was a faint little piece of memory attached to an ever fleeting remembrance of a dark skinned man who was the cause ofStella’s skin tone being on the side of being slightly too dark to convince Stan she was nothing but well-tanned; this tall dark man had called her his little princess it was one of the few things she could recollect without effort for even now as a simple piece of memory the idea that she’d been once considered precious, these days she was nothing more than a little bitch or useless retard.

 

There weren’t any windows in the small walk-in closet or as Stan had introduced it as her bedroom, he’d even got his hands on colorful wooden letters and placed them on the door spelling out her name and the word room; he’d found it hilarious while she’d found it degrading and if she’d had the strength of will and the desire to lose the matrass then she would’ve suggested that Stan should shove the colorful little letters up his rectum. 

 

Stella laid there on her matrass, curled in on herself as best she could while the light from the little lamp she’d dug up from a heap of trash outside of the apartment block where they’d lived for a few months a few years back, it gave her enough light to see her own reflection in the cracked mirror that was attached to the door, it felt rather befitting to see herself in that broken mirror considering how her own body was anything but whole; if only her mother had the abortion instead of having her then at least Stella didn’t have to deal with living the half-assed life she did. 

 

Stella Greyson was her name and her name might be the only thing about herself she liked. She disliked the way her body gave people the right to call her a retard and freak, how it gave people the right to make fun of her by mimicking the evident difference in her movements and the way her limbs could never be straight always a little bent. Stella hated the way her body made it so easy for people to think all of her cuts and bruises as nothing more than the signs of accidents born from the suffering of Cerebral Palsy.

 

There was nothing beautiful about her, her body was too thin with limbs that just looked twisted and tight, her hands were bony with claw-like fingers; sure the tightness wouldn’t be as prominent if her own mother didn’t continued to take _her_ muscle relaxants and using them for her own selfish needs, they’d probably have to move town again once the doctor caught on to the fact that she wasn’t taking her medication. 

 

There was a constant ache beneath her skin, enhanced with each spastic twitch of her body Stella knew that if she’d just stop crying, if she just stopped feeling so sorry for herself, if she just stopped being so afraid then those horrible jerking movements her body continued to create might stop or at least ease-up a little.But she was upset because Stan and a few of his friends broke her wheelchair which had been her only means of moving around freely, the twisted bent metal and wheels had been left by what was possibly the last payphone in town; the sound of the baseball bats beating her best form of transportation before running it over with their trucks, still rang loudly in her hears as did her loud and desperate cries, her throat was now sore because she’d screamed for them to stop but they hadn’t stop; and Stan hadn’t stopped at just destroying her wheelchair which was a stupid move really because they weren’t exactly cheap he’d also beat her just for good measure, to teach her a lesson she didn’t even now understand.

 

She doesn’t hear the man, not until the door opens and there he is all tall and mighty. His size is intimidating enough even without seeing his face. The light of her sad little lamp doesn’t reach the face of this stranger that has unlocked her prison door, but what she sees makes her incredibly nervous; the man is wearing heavy boots the same kind the bikers her mother and Stan had hung around with in Phoenix Arizona, and the vest as well as the gun the man was failing to hide from her eyes. 

 

This stranger was not a comforting sight to behold and Stella tried to cover herself up as best she could, which wasn’t much considering how Stan had stripped her into wearing nothing but her panties before dragging her upstairs and into the closet into which he’d proceeded to locked her inside the space he laughingly called her bedroom, Stan had been perfectly unaware of the t-shirt Stella had hidden beneath the stained matrass that served as her bed. 

 

There is no way for her not to begin to wonder if this brutish looking man was the one Stan always threatened would one day rape her, and the thought of having this man with gray hair and a scruffy appearance laying his large hands on her was almost enough to cause her to cry and beg him to leave her alone even before he’d done anything to her. 

 

But this stranger with heavy boots and a gun doesn’t grab her, doesn’t force her on her back or forcing her legs apart, he’s not ripping her underwear off of her or unbuckling his belt, all he does is stand there looking down at her like he’s not at all happy to see her which seemed like a strange thing to Stella but then again perhaps this obvious biker had lost a bet or something; and yes, that had to be it because there was no way anyone would willingly touch her, Stella even hated to see herself in the mirror most days so why would this man be any different. 

 

Stella tries not to flinch as the man begins to move, tries not to show how much he frightens her but she can’t help it for the reaction to pull away had been beaten into her until it didn’t take all that much to have her flinching or jumping as well as trembling from head to toe. She can’t stop herself from preparing herself mentally for the pain, her reactions and mental-preparations for future humiliation and suffering seems to cause the Neanderthal’s frown to deepen. 

 

Stella feels suddenly very trapped and fearful because this man isn’t leaving butdrawing closer, there’s no place for her to run even if she could run because the bulk of the man is enough to block the only exit of her so-called bedroom.

 

This odd man with large hands stood there in the doorway looking almost unsure of what to do next, like he hadn’t expected to find her there, but even seeing the man who looked like he belonged on a most wanted list and for all Stella knew the man might be on one, look so out of sorts that it didn’t make her feel any less afraid of him. She’d grown to be wary of men or rather anyone who could overpower her, Stella feared this strangers future actions and as he began to mimic the movements of someone trying to calm a startled animal Stella began to feel more trapped; she’d been tricked by these sort of things before, she wasn’t stupid enough not to expect pain at the behest of those large hands raised up before her palms facing her while the man with a face she’d never forget crouched before her.

 

`Hi there sweetheart.´ his words cause her to roll her eyes because really, sweetheart, she was hardly some little toddler who was so easily swayed to trust someone by being called sweetheart or honey or little one; she’d been called all of that one time too many before her useless body was used as a form to went frustration on or simply for the sake of others amusement. Sweetheart did nothing more than cause her to grow even more suspicious of this man who carried a gun. 

 

`Stella?´ this was new no one who hung around her mother or Stan ever called her Stella, and although he speaks softly as possible she knows by tingle in her spine that he’s not keeping his voice low in order not to frighten her but to keep others from hearing him and with the nervousness he’s displaying it’s all very intriguing.

 

`Are you Stella? Stella Greyson? ´ he asks while slowly kneeling while she nods hesitantly, her wordless answer seemed to please him for a little smile pulled at his lips. 

 

`Well Stella,´ the strange man says while moving a little bit closer to where she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

`I’m Clay,´ the man says and that name rings a bell, she’d heard people talk about biker called Clay and nothing she’d heard was good for the likes Stan and her mother, and from what she’d heard if the man was a threat to Stan and her mother then Clay was hardly going to be kind to her.

 

`I’m not going to hurt you sweetheart.´she nearly snortsat this but she’s wise enough no too, instead she makes an attempt to create a bit more distance between herself and Clay, and her movements seemed to draw his attention to her body more and it made her wish she’d had blanket to cover her bruised body. 

 

`I’m here to help you, ´ his words didn’t awaken much trust in her and why should it with the way he was gawking at her, she tried be it a waste of time to pull the frayed hem of the shirt down to cover her up a little bit more.

 

`Your aunt Cat sent me.´ the man says after a minute of awkward silence and Stella could’ve sworn she saw something within the lines of sadness cross the strange features of the man, his words were something that brought her hope but also a great deal of suspicion. 

 

`R-really? ´

 

`Yeah.´ this Clay fellow says before quirking up a little encouraging smile on his lips before saying, `so, come on sweetheart let’s get going so you can call your aunt and tell her you’re safe.´Stella felt the same shame wash over her that always came when people made assumption about her capabilities be they the lower kind or those that were full of high expectations. 

 

`I promise you, you are going to be fine.´ the man, Clay says, and she almost tells him not to make promises he could not possibly keep because she was tired of being disappointed in people and their false promises. 

 

`Just come with me.´ he reaches out to her and Stella hates it but she can’t do anything other than tell him she can’t and that she does, and the odd look on his face makes her repeat her answer before finally revealing to this possibly very dangerous man why she can’t just walk out the door with him.

 

` H-he broke, he broke m-my wheelchair,´ Stella says voice low and just saying it, telling someone how Stan had broken her wheelchair which had become rather dear to her, ` and my arm h-hurts so bad.´ and before she can stop herself she’s crying because god how she hated her life and body. She tries to hide her tears in the crook of her arm but there’s no doubt he knows she’s a crying mess. 

 

`Oh.´ Is all the man says before he suddenly gathers his wits about him and continues to say,`Honey, it’s okay.´ but nothing he says can stop her tears from falling. 

 

`I’m sorry sweetheart,´ is all he says before he scoops the her up which causes her to stop crying and let out an odd little sound because this is all so very odd to her, feeling insecure and fearful of falling she quickly wraps her arms around his neck and he seems to grunt something like approval to her action before taking the first unsteady steps out of the closet. This close to the man Stella is able to see he is hardly a spring chicken, and she can’t imagine carrying her around is doing wonders to his back and knees. 

 

`What the hell. What the fuck are you doing? ´ the familiar angry voice of Stan barks and the bright light hurts her eyes and she’s not sure if it’s the light or Stan that has ever whimpering and hiding her face against Clay’s shoulder while tightening her hold of the man who’d promised to take her away from her, promised to allow her to call her aunt but now Stan is there and she just knows she’s going to regret allowing this stranger take her out of her “room”.Clay tightens his hold of her but it does nothing to calm her down. 

 

`I’m taking her.´ Clay says without missing a beat.

 

`The fuck you are.´ Stan hisses, and Stella clings to Clay just a little bit tighter.

 

`He is.´ a feminine voice says, `and if you try and stop him I’ll just put a hole through your head.´ 

 

****

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

It was taking too long. Clay was taking too long, and frankly Gemma was growing impatient just standing there doing nothing, well she’d moved around a bit checking out the downstairs area which had done nothing but made her think getting the girl was the wrong thing to do even if it seemed to promise her having another mouth to feed.The state of the place was awful even if she could tell someone had made and effort in trying to keep the place clean but from the amount of human waste that lived there it was simply an impossible task to keep the kitchen spotless or the bathroom clean, then there was the lack of any real food just boxes of cheap cereal and stale bread, even the milk in the messy fridge had gone bad the fridge was full of bottles most of which were cheap beers and a couple bottles cheap as generic-vodka.

 

These surroundings, these filthy none-caring human waste of space could easily drive a teenage girl to drink or worse, Gemma couldn’t help but worry whether or not this Stella girl had slipped and done just that in an attempt to try and escape this hell she lived in by drinking away reality, or perhaps the girl had been pushed into using one of the many narcotics spread around any flat surface regardless Gemma wasn’t sure she could deal with a druggie or an alcoholic teenager with disabilities.

 

The skeletal who’d been sucking the dick of one of the guys watching cheap porn was shoved away like an unwanted dog as soon as they guy she’d been sucking-off came down her throat, Gemma found it disturbing how empty the eyes of the woman was as she just crawled over to skater-boy and proceeded to suck him off. Gemma felt sick just standing there watching it all, these people weren’t really human anymore just disgusting waste and she’d been there too long for her liking. 

 

She’s just about to head upstairs to either help her husband find the girl or to just tell him they were leaving, Gemma felt the filth of this place slowly latch itself to her skin and she just wanted to get home and take a long hot shower. She’s just a few steps away from the top when she hears something or rather someone moving around. 

 

Now Gemma wasn’t an expert in stealth but even she knew when someone was deliberately trying to be as silent as a church mouse, she also knew her Clay to be incapable of such soft steps even when he wasn’t wearing his heavy biker-boots the man was just too big and heavy and as graceful as a large rock rolling down a mountain.Realizing that someone was trying to sneak-up on her husband had Gemma moving, unlike Clay she could be as silent as a cat stalking its prey and it was one of her greatest advantages compared to her boys. Gemma could easily take him down all she had to do was aim her gun at his head and pull the trigger, but the sound of a gun going off would probably startle the whole house awake and the last thing she needed was some idiot trying to play hero coming at her with a knife, so she stalks her prey bidding her time like the wise woman she is. 

 

Gemma stays a few steps behind the man who slips into one of the bedrooms and turns on the light without warning,the sudden change from darkness to light blinds her for a second but only that and when she opens her eyes she hears this fool pointing his gun at her Clay and what appears to be an almost naked fearful girl bark, ` What the hell. What the fuck are you doing? ´

 

Now Gemma had seen Clay angry a bunch of times, furious even to the point she’d feared him, but there was something absolutely dangerous about him now even though he didn’t seem all that threatening or violent then and there, but there was something in those eyes that was so dark and unforgiving she almost thought putting a bullet through the naked-as-the-day-he-was-born bastards head would be the merciful thing to do but then again she was not a merciful woman. Gemma was vengeful, wrathful if anyone threatened her way of life and those she held close to her slightly damaged heart.

 

`I’m taking her.´ is all her man says and Gemma finds it almost funny because of course Clay would say it with such simplicity even with a gun pointing at him. 

 

`The fuck you are.´ the filth says, Gemma notices how the frightened kid tightens her hold of Clay as if trying to disappear into him, hide beneath his skin. Gemma thinks the girl who is without a doubt Stella Grayson looks like she might just wet herself, Gemma knew that one didn’t have such a reaction to someone unless they’d done something to earned it by cruelty. 

 

Stepping closer, steps determined and gun raised to the back of the head of this man who seemed to be a violent beast at least from what Gemma could tell by Stella’s reaction and all the bruises which covered her darker skin which spoke of what color Stella Grayson’s father was; the girl was lucky that the only family this girl had left was her mother and Cat because the rest of her family had been all racist fucks. 

 

`He is, ´ Gemma says from where she’s standing pointing the gun at the head of someone she imagined probably deserved a bullet through his head, `and if you try and stop him I’ll put a hole through your head.´ The idiot turns slowly his head to look at her perhaps thinking she was unarmed and bluffing, but as soon as he sees the gun his eyes harden with anger and gritting his teeth the filth weighs his options which are very few and far between. 

 

`Now you can try and fight it,´ Gemma says voice calm and smooth, but she’s like a poisonous snake and this abusive asshole seemed to sense it which told her plenty of his character a snake knew a snake after-all.

 

`But,´ Gemma puts some weight behind that little word while her hand tightens around the gun a move this so-called man does not miss, `I wouldn’t.´ the threat is there and she knows he understands, sees that dark little part in her soul that made her a person you really didn’t want to fuck with.

 

`Now we’re,´ she glances up at Clay who looks rightfully pleased with her for the time being but once he realized she’d gone against his instructions they would have a small and unproductive argument which would never really be resolved, but for the time being he was pleased with her, ` taking Stella here away from this shit of a life,´ the girl in Clay’s had stopped trying to disappear into Clay and dared to glance in Gemma’s direction, and those eyes were so torn between hopefulness and fear that Gemma wasn’t sure she could stop herself from shooting this asshole naked before her right where his little dick was.

 

`You fucking want that little bitch?´ the guy laughs cruel and hateful, before glancing over at the girl who visibly shrinks at the attention, `She’s fucking useless, you can’t even pay a guy to fuck her.´ 

 

Gemma doesn’t pull the trigger, she’s not stupid but he hits him again and again, she beats this worthless man with the gun just to do that little bit more damage, she pistol-whips him until she hears Clay clear his throat and ask, `Are you done?´ 

 

The face she sees is a bloodied mess and she doesn’t feel the slightest bit bad about it, the guy had it coming but she’s made a bloody mess of her own clothes. 

 

`Yeah. I’m done.´ Gemma responds before standing up, straightening her back which ached a little because she’d been crouching over the abusive-fuck. She glad she’d kept the safety on because she might’ve lost more a couple broken fingernails if she’d had it off, there’s blood and hairs on the gun and she’d rather just dump it in the trashcan with used-up condoms in it but she couldn’t be sure it couldn’t be traced back to Clay or anyone else of her boys so she grabs a couple of tissues covering the gun with them before sliding it inside the pocket of her jacket, there was no need to mess-up her jacket further now was there? 

 

`I-i-is he d-dead? ´ the girl with messy hair asks as they move down the stairs, her eyes are wide and fearful still but the fear doesn’t seem like one based entirely on the man upstairs.

 

`Sadly no.´ Gemma responds without thinking, the girl with a fairly pretty face turns her gaze momentarily at Gemma before hiding her face against Clay’s shoulder, she was shivering and Gemma was beginning to worry the kid might go into shock but she’s not about to grab anything else from this disgusting house. 

 

The mess of a woman who’d apparently finished sucking cock was standing there with a confused look on her face, looking back and forth between the three of them, and before Gemma can ask what the hell she’s gawking at Clay speaks and his voice is tight with anger, `She’s ours now, she’s under the protection of the Sons of Anarchy, ´ the bitch drops her bottle of beer and she’s just nodding her head over and over again.

 

Without another word they walk out of the pigsty of a house, Gemma moves a head so she can safely discard the gun and grab the one of the ratty old blankets one which was probably as old as her son was why Clay kept it was beyond her understanding. 

 

As soon as Clay has the girl inside the car Gemma moves in to wrap the shivering girl with the blanket that smelled like it had been in the trunk of a car just a little bit too long, but the girl flinches away from her it seemed battering a guy in front of an already traumatized and thus understandably fearful person wasn’t the best thing to do, Gemma however doesn’t feel bad about giving the asshole of a stepfather a taste of his own medicine still the fact that this Stella girl flinched away from her when she’d tried to wrap her up in a blanket bothered her none the less. 

 

The drive home was a silent one, the girl looking around worriedly and Clay kept checking on her which made it clear to Gemma that this kid wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. 

 

~*~

 

Stella honestly hadn’t meant to flinch away from the woman who was Gemma, _the_ Gemma she’d been waiting for since calling for help, but she had flinched away from the woman who honestly looked like a person Stella shouldn’t get on the wrong-side of. However even if it had been Santa there instead of Gemma she would’ve flinched regardless because being inside a small space and strapped down be it by a seatbelt with a member of the Sons of Anarchy there, she couldn’t help it she didn’t know these people who could do to her whatever. Frankly she was worried about her safety because she’d heard a lot of whispers about the Sons of Anarchy.

 

Stella knew she could only hope that things wouldn’t get worse but with her luck it would do just that, it always did. 

 

Not knowing if she could trust these two strangers has her memorizing the street names and the path they take just in case she was possibly dumped in a sweatshop or some brothel or in some ditch somewhere, however slowly the ditch part of her fears as well as the sweatshop dies down because the house outside which they stop doesn’t look like it would do well as a sweatshop not that Stella knows anything about sweatshops really.

 

`Here were are,´ Clay says as the car comes to a stop, `home sweet home.´ and the tension in his shoulders appear to slip away from him, and it makes one of the many knots in her stomach unknot, she’s still fearful of what will happen once she’s out of the car and inside the house.

 

`Let’s get you inside and warm, ´ Gemma says while slipping out of the car, `and you should call Cat.´ 

 

Clay slips out of the car too and while Gemma heads towards the direction of the front-door while Clay once more picks Stella up, and she wants to protest against being carried around but she’s without her wheel chair and braces so there’s no use in even trying to make her way to the house on her own, Stella knows she’s become weaker and weaker while her muscles were rigid or cramping so horribly at times that she could only cry because of the pain which had become a thing since Stan and her mother started taking her medication or maybe they sold them she couldn’t be certain which.

 

There’s a surprising amount of gentleness in the way Clay who honestly doesn’t look like a person capable of gentleness, he protects her head as she’s removed from the car, his also very cautious about her arms and legs as they enter the house which smells weird and it takes her a minute to figure out what that smell is; this is the first time for as long as she could remember when she’s in a clean house, the interior of the house is hardly something out of one of those fancy magazines but it was sort of homey not to mention that the couch was clean and when she was set down on it she didn’t sink down to the floor even if there wasn’t a plank underneath the seat cushions. 

 

`Here,´ the woman Gemma says handing her a cellphone that was most likely a smartphone although Stella wouldn’t know she’s never had one, Stan had one but she wasn’t allowed to touch it with her filthy hands.

 

`Call Cat, I’ll get you something warm to drink. I think we’ve got tea somewhere.´ it’s clear the woman is uncomfortable and wants to get away from her but Stella needs her help, just a little bit. 

 

`Could, could you please,´ she knows she sounds like a frightened child, but she’s afraid that asking for anything from this woman would earn her a slap, but she honestly has no idea how this flat piece of phone works and if she can’t use it how can she call anyone?

 

`What? You want something stronger?´ there’s something sharp and angry about Gemma’s voice, the question is an odd one and it makes asking for help that much more harder, but help and guidance she needs. 

 

`No, thank you.´ Stella says as best she can without sounding like she’s afraid of this woman before her.

 

`So what do you want? ´

 

`I – I just don’t know how to, you know, to use this phone.´ Stella knows she sounds like an idiot, but she just can’t help it this woman who’d bashed Stan’s face in was scary much like Stan was, `I’m sorry.´

 

`Oh.´ is all the woman says before sitting down next to her, sure there was enough space between them for another person to slip between them but there’s something less sharp and hard in Gemma’s voice, `I’ll show you, alright?´ Stella nods before thanking the woman who for the time being looked a little bit less frightening. 

 

** ~*~ **

 

`Oh fuck.´ Clay groans as he looks around Jax’s bedroom, a room that doesn’t really look like the proper place for a teenage girl to sleep in, but the poor girl can’t sleep on the couch. Clay walks over to the windows and starts opening them because the room probably smelled horrible for a girl, then again Stella might not even smell anything after the stench of the shack she was lived in. Usually Clay wouldn’t give a fuck about the half-naked and frankly very naked and provocative ladies on the walls, but knowing that there was going to be a teenage girl sleeping in this bedroom had him ripping down the posters, he’s quick to discard them into the trashcan before chasing down everything that the Stella might accidentally find such as knives, guns, dirty magazines, and a couple of joints, he throws everything but the guns and knives into the trashcan before changing the sheets on the bed and grabbing a couple of extra blankets. Clay disposes of the guns and the knives in his and Gemma’s bedroom before sweeping through Jax’s room once more and closing the window before heading out of the room with a trashcan that could only just hold the crap he’d found. 

 

Clay doesn’t get far though, because what he walks into is not what he’d been expecting Gemma’s got the now crying girl in her arms, and Clay feels his heart sinking to the floor and all the way down into hell. He doesn’t really need Gemma to tell him what’s wrong which she still does by mouthing out the message that the traitorous bitch Cat was dead. 

 


	5. We say our Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a short one, but at least it’s something to show I haven't lost sight of this fic.

Cat’s funeral was small and simple. There was no God mentioned at the funeral, no prayers were said, no hymns sung to ease or increase the pain of grief that should’ve settled in all of their hearts. There were no long and drawn out speeches, and not many tears dropped as there were only a handful of people to witness the last leg of Cat’s messy existence on earth, there was only one person amongst the grimly dressed individuals that was truly saddened by the death. Two of the guest were only there for the girl who’d brought the only flowers at the funeral, the rest of the souls attending the sorrowful excuse of a funeral were those few bleak souls from the funeral home Cat had chosen to care for her remains, there were also two gravediggers there who frankly looked like they’d rather be at the pub down the road.  
  
The funeral truly was a simple one or as Gemma would call pathetic, not sad just pathetic, with a pinewood casket of the cheapest sort and a hole in the ground. There was nothing fancy about Cat’s funeral, there weren’t even any flowers except for the bouquet of colorful tulips Stella had brought, flowers that were thrown into the open grave into which the simple box of wood that would keep the corps of the traitor locked away was lowered into very slowly without a prayer or a song.  
  
Gemma and Clay watch over Stella who sat in her new wheel chair which Gemma had a suspicion Clay hadn’t just bought without some research, Gemma had never experienced anyone ever in her life seen anyone be as grateful as the girl had been when Clay had showed-up with the wheelchair, Stella had at first been suspicious, cautious and the then she’d started to cry and thank them almost as soon as Clay had helped her into her new wheelchair.

They give Stella the time she needs to properly say goodbye to the only person who’d seemed interested in the life the girl lived and what happened to her who’d been handed a rough set of cards, Clay and Gemma had no respect for the departed but they weren’t heartless enough to deny the girl a chance to say her goodbyes without either one of them hurrying her along. They leave when Stella is ready to leave.

When Stella finally decides she’s ready to leave they do by then the seven men from the funeral home had already left to care for another most likely far more profitable funeral.

The cold had stiffened the body that had been beaten and neglected for far too many years and Clay had to help the girl out of her wheelchair and into the car once it was time to leave, Stella may have only been with them a week but Clay had already done a lot to make Stella’s life easier; he’d found her a wheelchair that was lightweight and easy for Stella to use and the framework was a hot pink color, Clay had absolutely beamed with pride when the wheelchair had brought the girl tears of joy during a time when her heart was heavy with grief, and certainly even Gemma had been somewhat touched by the joy she could see on the face of the bruised girl as she took her new wheels a test run down the block. Clay hadn’t only found a wheelchair for the girl who’d spent days trying hard not to show them her grief or fears, discomforts or the lack of proper sleep, he’d also signed a couple of guys from the club to come over to the house on to help him build ramps to help Stella move in and out of the house easer; Clay had also made the call to have Stella seem by a doctor after her first night in however long in a proper bed; when Gemma questioned his actions, `We need to make sure she gets the help she needs,´ and that was that, no arguing or buts or maybes about it.

Clay’s devotion to Stella seemed odd to Gemma, and yet she held her tongue unwilling to risk an argument at least for now.

The long, several hour long drive back home to Charming, is a silent one a couple of stops here and there to fuel the car and their bodies, to use the restrooms, it’s during one of their stops that Gemma begins to realize that people are gawking at the three of them, whispering in low and hushed voices and fingers pointing all of which Gemma could’ve done without.

They arrived back home near mid-night the three of them were all exhausted, Clay was stiff to the bone and by the time they’re all ready for bed the aches have the aging man groaning and Gemma has to spend half-an-hour to just rub the worst of the aches away, never thinking that in a few hours they’d be awakened by a blood curdling scream that left the otherwise silent girl. 

**Author's Note:**

> I struggled for like 10min before I could click on the post button.


End file.
